Heurism | Spencer Reid¹

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: FALSE BRAVADO

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls. The most massive characters are seared with scars."

     — Kahlil Gibran.

—

Instead of Canardo, a young woman answers the door. She is petite and blonde, though her hair has been shorn down to a messy pixie cut. She sports a large shirt, a golden locket shining over her heart. When she sees us, she frowns a little but remains polite and friendly. "Who are you guys?"

"Mrs Canardo?" Gideon asks.

"Yes?"

We all show our badges. "Can we come in?" She smiles a little and leads the way. The tiny hallway leads straight through into the kitchen, which is just as cramped. Noticing the way she eyes us and glances around, Gideon studies her. "Everything okay?"

"You tell me."

"We're looking for your husband."

Still as cordial as before, she smiles a little. "He's not home."

"Well, he spent time in prison with a man named Joseph Davin. Do you know him?"

She sighs and leans back against the counter, "Yeah, I know Joey."

It's hard to tell what exactly her opinion is of him, but Morgan decides to give it to her straight. "Joey's dead."

Immediately, her head snaps around to him, eyes widening in shock. "Oh my God. What happened?"

"He pulled a gun when we were trying to question him," Portillo explains shortly.

"About what?"

She really does seem clueless. Gideon relaxes a little. "Seven young women in the Jacksonville area who've been raped and killed. Did you know him well?"

A little shaken by the news, she pauses, exhaling slowly. "He and my husband did time together. When Tony got out on good behaviour, he tried to turn his life around, stay clean."

He looks around at the beer bottles and cans, cluttering most of the surfaces. "How's he doing?"

"Okay." Following his gaze, she winces. "Some of those are mine."

I nod a little. "Is he drinking more than usual?"

"I mean, maybe a little, but it's been tough at work lately."

Morgan tries a different question. "Tony ever get into trouble or do anything that scares you when he drinks?"

At that, she huffs disapprovingly, "Only when he's around Joey. When those two get together, I'm afraid of what can happen."

"Do you know where we can find Tony now?"

"He's getting off work. He should be home soon."

I am intrigued by how unsurprised she seems. The mention of the victims certainly has her shaken, but it would be enough to scare any woman, especially one who fits the victimology. The idea of her husband being involved, however, does not appear to be unthinkable for her. Morgan's voice softens. "Is there anyplace you can go? 'Cause we're going to need to talk to him."

She hesitates. Looking around at us, she awkwardly itches her cheek, the sleeves of her shirt so long that they flop over her hands. "I can call my friend Kim," she says quietly.

Gideon nods and she goes to get her phone. He then looks to Portillo. "You want to drive me to the station?" Answered with a hum of agreement, he directs the next request at Morgan and I. "Can you wait here for Tony?"

While they take the SUV, I sit with Morgan in Portillo's blue sedan, parked just around the corner. I grimace and crack open a window. Grabbing a kindergarten brochure from the dashboard, I fan myself with it. Morgan chuckles, "Can't take the heat? I thought you were a Louisiana girl."